


Another Night

by mysupernaturalobsessions



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Coming Out, Dancer Ian Gallagher, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:22:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysupernaturalobsessions/pseuds/mysupernaturalobsessions
Summary: Terry’s dead and Mickey is going to start living life for himself.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Terry died three days before Mickey’s 23rd birthday. Untreated heart disease. Fitting.

Mickey considered it the best birthday gift his father had ever given him. And Mickey decided to treat himself, too.

Mandy was already out getting plastered probably, Iggy was out celebrating too. He’d invited Mickey along but he honestly didn’t feel like shit talking his dad and getting baked with the neighborhood thugs. Terry was dead. Mickey wasn’t gonna spend another minute doing things he didn’t want to do.

Figuring out what he did want to do proved harder than anticipated. He got up, got dressed up a little (real pants, no holes) and headed somewhere he’d never have gone when his father was alive - to the bars in Boystown. The closer he got the more he realized this was probably a bad plan. Just because his father would have hated it, still doesn’t mean Mickey wouldn’t hate it. And judging by the clientele he saw going into each bar on the street, hating it was a real possibility.

Still, since he was there, Mickey figured he’d at least go in somewhere. Have a drink, see if there was anyone worth his time.

That was his main goal after all, have a good fuck, a big fuck you to his father. With someone out and unashamed and unapologetic, now that he could. Mickey wanted to see what that looked like.

Judging by the bar he finally settled on, that looked like glitter. Patrons and customers alike were all bright and shiny. There were dancers scattered about in barely-there gold shorts. Mickey slipped immediately to the bar, feeling out of place and in desperate need of alcohol.

”What can I get ya?”

”Beer,” Mickey grunted.

”We got IPAs, a stout, some sours...”

Mickey glared up at the bartender. “Got any beer?”

The guy pursed his lips. “Coming right up.”

He scampered away to the other side of the bar, where another bartender was working. Mickey watched them share words and then glance in his direction. They both looked away when Mickey caught them, but they kept talking and smirking. It made Mickey’s face feel a little hot and his skin itch. But he scoffed to himself. Like he was the weird one around here.

After steadily drinking his first beer and taking a second one from the unimpressed bartender, Mickey left the safety of his corner. The rest of the place couldn’t be any worse.

He was drawn to one of the small stages where a redhead was dancing slowly. He trailed his hand down his body. It was clear the boy was young, probably around Mickey’s age, and honestly not a great dancer. But he was great to look at.

When Mickey had been standing there a few minutes they even made eye contact for a second, but it was over as fast as it began, the redhead’s attention being drawn away. Someone was moving up even closer to the stage, screaming over the music.

”Curtis! Hey!”

The boy crouched down to hear the older man. “Why don’t you come down here and give us a show, hmm?” 

Mickey must have been imaging the way the boys eyes flitted back over to him. And then Mickey’s brain short-circuited completely when he heard the kid’s voice, low and rough and not at all what Mickey would have guessed. “This ain’t enough of a show?”

“It’s nice, Curtis, but I was thinking something a little closer.” And then the man was reaching his own hand out to trail down Curtis’s skin, and the boy looked almost ready to push him off but he stepped off the stage instead. The man nearly purred, and then he stuffed a twenty dollar bill in the elastic shorts Curtis was wearing. “Good boy.”

Curtis turned his back to the man’s front so he couldn’t see him roll his eyes and then started grinding against him. Mickey was just about to turn away, annoyed the old prick had ruined the one good thing in the bar, when the boy’s deep voice cut through the noise. “Hands off the goods.”

But of course the entitled douche didn’t listen and then suddenly the kid was grabbing the man’s arm, ripping it away and wrenching it behind his back. Mickey was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open.

”Get the fuck out of my face and keep your hands to yourself,” he spit out, then he let the man go and stalked away.

Mickey, feeling the most at home he’d felt since arriving, walked back over to the bar distractedly. He ordered more beers and drank them near the bar, scanning the room for bright red hair. He only spotted him for a minute, just before he was led down a hallway by another old guy. The image definitely put a damper on Mickey’s mood. So despite it being his reason for coming, when a few guys came to hit on him he was probably a little more gruff than necessary. But he had it right from the start, none of these guys were his type.

Well, no one but the redhead. All alien-looking and aloof, but then fights and talks like a total badass. Yeah, he could take Mickey for sure. And then Mickey decided, well, why keep wasting time? It’d been at least an hour since he’d spotted the kid. Mickey decided to take matters in his own hands and go down the same hallway across the bar. Once he was over there he realized it was clearly marked for employees only. Mickey glanced around quickly and kept walking. He wasn’t even halfway to the door at the end when it opened and two twinky looking guys walked out.

They took one look at Mickey and started screeching for security. Mickey was promptly kicked out the side door on his ass.

”All right, all right, fuck you all, too,” Mickey barked at them just before the door slammed. He stood up and brushed himself off. Not the worst way to end an evening.

He walked down the narrow alley back to the main Street, and turned the corner. He immediately noticed someone lying outside the entrance in the snow. There was a lot of skin and familiar red hair.”

”Fuck,” Mickey said, hurrying over. He crouched down to the boy to check he was breathing. He was but unresponsive. Mickey looked around, they were out of view of the bouncer, but clearly visible to anyone on the street. How long had the kid been out here? Mickey took off his flannel and draped it over the boy, then he stooped down to pick him up over his shoulder.

Mickey walked up to the bouncer who barely even blinked at them. But when Mickey moved to walk by him back into the bar, he held out his hand. “Whoa, hey, he can’t go back in there.”

Mickey frowned. “Well, he’s unconscious.”

”Then take him home.”

”The fuck? What makes you think I know where he lives, man? I just found him over there in the snow.”

The guy shrugged. “Put him back then.”

”Put him...Are you fucking serious?” Mickey asked incredulously.

He considered putting the kid down just to punch the douchebag bouncer in the face, but then a car pulled up beside them. The driver yelled out the window to him. “Did you call for an Uber?”

Mickey hesitated, then glared at the bouncer once again before turning around and hiking the boy up higher on his shoulder. “Yeah, I called for a you-ber.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Mickey brings Ian home.

“The fuck,” Ian muttered, rolling over in a bed that was clearly not his own. The situation wasn’t completely uncommon for him, but it was still unnerving every time. The room was small, cluttered, covered in posters that were way too dark for Ian’s tastes. This wasn’t his usual client, that much was clear. Ian was also wearing someone else’s shirt. That was unusual, too.

He reluctantly sat up, trying to feel out his body. He was sore for sure. His head was pounding. 

A second door he hadn’t noticed at the foot of the bed swung open. A shorter man Ian recognized from the club last night walked out. He was one of the last things Ian could place from the previous night. He wasn’t a regular, and he wasn’t even some pathetic old closet case. So what did he want with Ian?

“What am I doing here?”

“Hey, sleepyface.”

“Hi?”

The man looked at him, rubbed a thumb across his lower lip.

“Look man, I’m glad you’re up - I’ve gotta get to work. And, look man, my family is home and I ain’t about to parade a guy in gold shorts through the house so we gotta sneak you out of here.”

Guess he was wrong about the closeted part.

Ian gave him a hard look. “I can be discreet. Just tell me where to go.”

The man glanced at the door and then back at Ian, his eyes drifted behind him. “We’re on the first floor...”

Ian followed his line of sight to the window. “You can’t be serious.” Then he sighed. “Guess I’ve done worse things.”

The man laughed. “Yeah, I bet, firecrotch.”

Ian glared again, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was tired and this interaction was the closest Ian had felt to being a normal human, not a client, in a while. Which brought him back to his first point.

“Why am I here? I...don’t remember much of last night.”

The man laughed again but it was harsher. He rubbed his lip again, pulling Ian’s gaze there.

“I was at the bar where you...work.”

“Yeah I remember,” Ian said, meeting his eyes, taking in the way the man’s skin started looking flushed. 

“Right. Yeah. And as I was leaving I found you outside. They wouldn’t let you back inside so...”

Ian shook his head, not remembering any of this. Wasn’t Floyd with him at some point? Why didn’t he go home with him? But Ian couldn’t exactly ask this stranger about some old client. “So why didn’t I just go home?”

The man looked away. “You...uh...weren’t really...conscious.”

“So you what? Picked me up and brought me home?” Ian could feel his face heating up. He stood up in agitation which seemed to startle the other man. He frowned at him.

“Hey, I didn’t know what else to do okay?”

“Sure, just take advantage of the free ass.”

The man got in his face then. “I didn’t touch you, dude. I don’t need to take advantage like those viagroids who were all over you just to get laid.” 

And maybe hearing that should have been a relief but Ian knew his own body. If it wasn’t this man, that just meant it was someone else, and Ian couldn’t even freaking remember.

“Yeah, you get all the ass you want, huh? They all climb out the window, too?”

“Whatever, man. I don’t need this. I was just trying to help you out, okay, and all I’ve gotten for it is shit.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Noted. Don’t let the window hit you in the ass on your way out.”

Ian scowled and all but ripped the shirt off his shoulders. 

The man deflated a bit. “Hey, you don’t need to...I mean, you can keep that.”

Ian looked up at him incredulously. 

“Might make you at least a little bit less conspicuous. Here, wear some sweatpants, too.”

Ian caught the pair thrown at him and only paused a second before complying. This rationale he could get behind. 

The silence between them suddenly left Ian feeling sheepish, knowing his anger had probably been misplaced anyway. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna...” he gestured to the window with his thumb.

“Yeah, okay.” When Ian had one leg over the window sill the man reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Does it matter?”

“Well, I mean...” the man stuttered.

“Ian,” he said, taking pity on him. 

The man nodded. “Curtis doesn’t suit you at all.”


End file.
